Page 13 of Breakpoint
“FUCK!” Dani screamed to herself as she missed another shot. “What is wrong with you?” She changed her racket but knew that wouldn’t make a difference. She could feel herself falling apart.
With each point, the weight of the moment seemed to get heavier on Dani’s shoulders. The crowd roared for each point Jaz won, their cheers another cacophony to the screams inside Dani’s head. She could feel the tension, the palpable energy of the match hanging heavy in the atmosphere. But Jaz showed no mercy, capitalizing on every mistake, every moment of hesitation. It all became too much, and she couldn’t handle the moment.
The final point was a blur. Dani played a great serve, and Jaz struck an even better return. The ball sailed over the net, landing just inches inside the baseline. Disappointment, sharp and bitter, washed over her.
“Game, set, match, Miss Mason. 4-6, 6-2, 6-1,” the chair umpire called over the speakers.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but for Dani, the sound was muted, distant. Her body spent, her spirit drained. Defeat tasted bitter, especially after the intoxicating sweetness of that first set victory. The crowd’s applause, though still warm, felt different now, tinged with a hint of pity. The walk to the net to shake Jaz’s hand was hazy. Every step felt like a mountain to climb. Her head was pounding; her legs felt like lead.
The loss stung. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall on the court in front of twenty thousand people. Shegrabbed her rackets, stuffed them into her bag, and exited the court with a quick wave to the crowd. She walked down the long hallway adorned with pictures of past champions, Jaz’s face towards the end of the hall staring right back at her.
Dani slung a bag full of rackets over her shoulder and pushed through the door labeled “players only.” She slammed into the locker room. Normally a place of activity, but, being the last match of the day, the silence was deafening. The only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning. Exhaustion, disappointment, frustration, anger—they all swirled together in a chaotic storm. Dani chucked her racket to the floor with a clatter.
“What the fuck?” she screamed, wishing she could smash all her rackets in her bag. She grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off her face, then put the towel over her as she slunk down on the floor. She sat alone, staring at the floor, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Hiding from everyone with the towel over her, she finally let the tears fall.
In the distance, she heard the locker room door open. A few moments later, she felt a presence over her before she saw the shadow at her feet.
“Hey.”
She jumped and removed the towel. When she looked up, Jaz was staring down at her.
Chapter 6
Jaz walked into the players’ locker room and tossed her racket bag onto the bench into the organized chaos of the room. Towels were strewn about, water bottles, energy drinks, protein bars, and discarded athletic tape littered the space. Open lockers revealed a jumble of tennis rackets, extra clothes, and personal items.
It always annoyed Jaz that the other players didn’t pick up after themselves and left the room a mess. If Jaz was caught being messy or leaving something in disarray, they would say she was disrespecting the game. Or that the black girl from the hood didn’t know any better.
But at the moment, the familiar tingle of victory outweighed her annoyance. She had a little more pep in her step than she would after a match. After crushing Daniela.
Daniela had been so cocky, acting like she won the match after merely winning the first set. She must have forgotten women’s tennis was the best of three and she had to win two sets. It was oneof the worst things someone could do in tennis, to think that they had the match in the bag until the final point was played.
And let’s be real, Daniela poked the bear. She must have forgotten that Jaz was known as the machine for a reason and was never out of a match until it was over. She had the best three-set record out there. Jaz could see the moment the crack in Daniela’s game happened. She’d broken Daniela’s serve and ultimately, broken her spirit.
She just played her game of in-your-face tennis. After that, she could tell Daniela was falling apart and couldn’t stay calm under the pressure of beingcloseto winning a big match. One of the hardest things to do was close out when the opponent had nothing to lose and play freely. And Daniela obviously couldn’t hack it.
Now, all Jaz wanted was a hot shower and the quiet satisfaction of a well-earned win. She was already feeling the stinging pain in her lower back and would definitely need treatment if she was going to be able to even walk tomorrow. She went to peel off her sweat-soaked shirt, but a muffled sob cut through the silence.
Jaz froze. She didn’t think anyone else would still be in here, given that they were the last match of the night. She peered around the corner.
It was Daniela, huddled on the floor, face buried under a towel, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It was a stark contrast to the fiery and cocky player she had faced on the court just minutes before.
She had made many players cry. She’d seen it herself when she won Grand Slam titles, and the loser would cry openly oncenter court. She was used to the thrill of victory, the satisfaction of a hard-earned win, but the sight of Daniela’s raw vulnerability was unsettling. A pang of something unfamiliar, something akin to guilt, or maybe empathy, pricked at Jaz.
Her last real interaction with Daniela had been before Madrid, where, looking back now, she could be honest that Daniela took a lot of the spotlight off her at the joint press event. Daniela had the media eating out of her hand. It was the best press conference she had been a part of, and Kira said, even though she was her normal robot, that they got a lot of good coverage. With none of the normal hot takes about her personality.
And Daniela had stood up to her and gave her shit when most cowered to Jaz. It showed she had some fight in her and could hold her own, which Jaz could appreciate and respect. She definitely wasn’t a wilting flower. Maybe that was why she was feeling this way right now. Because this…this felt different.
Jaz hesitated, but something, a nagging feeling she couldn’t quite name, compelled her forward between the lockers to where Daniela was sitting on the floor.
“Hey,” she said softly, her voice echoing in the cavernous room. Daniela flinched, took the towel off her head, and looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but obviously surprised to see Jaz standing there. She quickly tried to compose herself, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
For the first time, Jaz noticed the green in her eyes, even through tears. They matched her olive skin perfectly. She quickly shook off the thought.
“Look.” Jaz began taking a deep breath and struggling to get the words out because she definitely wasn’t used to this. “That was a tough match. You played well.”
Daniela looked up at her skeptically. Because yes, it sounded hollow, even to her own ears. She felt awkward saying it and well sounded corny.
Dani scoffed, a humorless sound. “Not well enough.”
